


vary my days

by mightyleviathan



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, mentions of canon hiv/aids, proposal, this is Not how you make a marriage proposal!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightyleviathan/pseuds/mightyleviathan
Summary: He points at the idiot for emphasis and shakes his head at the absurdity. “Only you, Marvin. Only you could turn a marriage proposal into a business merger.”“That’s essentially what it is!”
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 84





	vary my days

“Rating?” Marvin calls as he washes his hands.

He hisses in through his teeth, considering it for a moment, lounging on a stool by the kitchen island. “Three?” Whizzer eventually replies with a shrug. He hates having to put an arbitrary number on his discomfort.

He’d been discharged from Mount Sinai less than two weeks ago and _Mom Marvin_ still had full reign of the apartment, fussing and fidgeting over him every two seconds. Thankfully, Whizzer had gotten him to finally end his leave of absence from the firm. So he now had a whole nine hours of the day where he wasn’t being crowded with love and concern (excluding a lunchtime phone call that Whizzer absolutely _needs_ to answer unless he wants emergency responders outside the apartment by one-thirty.)

He wished Marvin giving him space felt like more of a relief than it did. Sure, it was nice to not have Marvin standing there, contentedly watching him nap all afternoon like a _lunatic,_ but _God._ Bed rest was boring. Thank God Cordy wasn’t getting many gigs these days, even if she used their platonic trysts to shove food down his throat. Slow business sucks ass, but it’s how they became friends in the first place. They both have unreliable freelance careers, and know all too well what it’s like. Spending too much time cooped up in their parallel apartments going stir crazy, trying to court new clients and waiting for their partners to get home from their bread-winning jobs. They kept one another from feeling like stifled housewives as they bitched, drafted emails, and drank white wine.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Marvin replies with a grin, turning around to face him as he shakes water from his hands. “Back to zero in no time, hm?” He continued, resting his forearms on the granite countertop; skin bare where his shirtsleeves were rolled up. Whizzer nodded, stifling his amused smile at Marvin’s surprisingly _genuine_ upbeat attitude. It’s clear he’s making a point of coming home from work happy. It’s sweet, the way he tries. Being greeted with flowers and a kiss is nice and all, but he doesn’t stick with Marvin because the guy’s a hopeless romantic. He’s with Marvin because he actually enjoys being with the guy. Even if he’s an absolute dick half the time. Something makes him halt, and Whizzer watches the smile stutter as Marvin’s hands begin to fidget.

“Hey, so-“ Marvin begins as he pushes himself off the counter and rounds the island to Whizzer. “I, uh. I’ve been- thinking about something.” he continues, grabbing another barstool to face him. He rubs his nose. A nervous tick of his.

 _Oh God._ He suppresses an eye roll. And fails to suppress a grimace.

“I know… the medical bills have been bothering you.” _Fuck,_ his chest tightens. Can’t Whizzer have one day where he doesn’t have to think about stupid fucking healthcare and how people don’t care about him and his shitty disease now that it’s no longer a death sentence? 

_(No longer a death sentence to people in western countries who could afford treatment, anyway. Because the world sucks and God is dead.)_

“And- you know I am more than happy to pay out of pocket. I am. We’re partners in this. Your job is to get better. My job is to be here. To help make it possible for you to get what you need to get better.” 

_Right,_ he thinks; nodding bitterly. _Because that’s fair._

“But you don’t like having to rely on me and I- I get that, I really do.” 

Based on the look on Marvin’s face, he doesn’t actually get it. He doesn't understand what it’s like to fight tooth and nail to stay afloat. He’s never worried about how he’s going to pay rent or for his medications. Whizzer isn’t used to having back up. Sure, he’s gotten cash from guys before, but that was still a hustle. The dudes got the illusion of power, they both got laid, and he got material things. Clothes, cologne, expensive dinners. Luxuries. 

It’s different like this. When it’s Marvin. When it’s something he _needs._ When he knows he couldn’t find a way to handle the dues if Marvin weren’t here. It’s about Whizzer not having a choice. He _loves_ him, he can comfortably admit that to himself and the world now. It doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with relying on another person for- essentially? His life. He’s tried to explain it to Marvin, who sees the discomfort on his face anytime the topic is broached. He nods and smiles understandably- yet forced as Whizzer tells him how he feels about the whole thing. In Marvin’s mind, _I don’t want to have to rely on you to save me_ translates to _I want to keep the option to leave you._

“So, even though you know I am truly happy to cover the expenses in full... I was thinking the costs would be greatly diminished if you had insurance. I’m saying this for your own peace of mind.”

He feels a headache coming on. Whizzer shakes his head slowly. “I don’t qualify for medicare.” He speaks like he’s talking to a child. (A child he feels no respect for, anyway. He’d never treat Jason like that.) He thought they’d been over this. Of course, if insurance was an option for him, he’d be on insurance.

“I know, I know.” Marvin replies, putting his hands in front of him in a placating motion. He speaks slowly. “I was thinking you could get on my insurance. Yes, I would still be… involved, and everything but I wouldn’t actually be paying. I’d be helping _-“_ he taps his fingernails on the counter nervously. “in a- uh, more… traditional way.”

The look he gives him hold significance. He seemingly expects some kind of response to that. Whizzer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to give him. Marvin’s breath stutters as he continues “Do- do you get what I’m proposing?” He rewinds the conversation, attempting to find where he lost him, to follow whatever point Marvin was trying to make here. Noticing his searching eyes, Marvin hurriedly followed the question with “I’m proposing.”

If Whizzer’s brain were a computer, it would be displaying the blue screen of death. He stares ahead blankly, waiting for his neurons to come back online as Marvin sweats, sitting across from him. He could almost hear a _click, click, click. Woosh,_ as the reboot finishes and the fan turns on. He enters his password, and comes back to himself. 

Unfortunately, his first response is a bark of laughter. 

Marvin loses the tension in his body as he gives Whizzer an offended look. “What?” He snaps.

Still laughing, Whizzer gasps out “What the fuck was that? Are we having a business meeting right now?” 

“I was just trying to broach the subject in a proactive way-“ Marvin says defensively.

“Proactive?!” He splutters. “Jesus Christ, what’s next? You gonna start throwing around words like synergy?” he points at the idiot for emphasis and shakes his head at the absurdity. “Only you, Marvin. Only you could turn a marriage proposal into a business merger.”

 _“That’s essentially what it is!”_ He ignores the indignant reply.

“Did you think this through at all?” he continues his ribbing with a grin. “Did you even get a ring?”

Marvin’s jaw drops, outraged. “Did I even-“ he stutters. He shoves a hand into the inside pocket of his hideous trousers. “Yes, I'll have you know I did get a ring, you jerk.” he says, slamming a velvet box onto the countertop between them.

Whizzer’s chuckles die out at the sight as all air is expelled from his lungs. Frozen in place and heart beating loud, his eyes for some reason decide to focus on Marvin’s forearms as he reels from where the earth has tilted on its axis. He watches the veins bulge as his fists clench and Whizzer feels his own heartbeat sync up with the steady pulse. Meanwhile, Marvin probably counts to one hundred in his head or does whatever else his new shrink wants him to for his anger issues. That idiot.

A wave of calm rises high above his head and crashes down around him. He stares at the box and finds the surreality of the situation acts as a cushion to everything surrounding it. The world clicks back into place. “Well?” he asks after a moment, nodding his head towards the offended object. 

“...Well, what?” Marvin asks warily.

He shrugs “Are you gonna ask me? For real?” 

He squirms uncomfortably on the stool as his eyes dart around the room, suspiciously. After he seemingly decides _whatever_ is fine, that there are no hidden cameras, that Mendel isn’t hiding behind a curtain ready to give him pointers, his eyes fall back to Whizzer; who simply raises his eyebrows at him expectantly.

Giving in (as he always does with Whizzer, eventually), he sighs defeatedly and grabs the box in his hand, familiarity in his grasp. After glancing around once more, he slides off the stool and onto his knee. He shuffles around on the floor as he gets settled and avoids eye contact with Whizzer, who watches him carefully. He winces and grumbles at the pressure of the hardwood floor against his knee. Whizzer can’t stop the smile that springs to his face.

He mumbles it, looking off to the couch on the other end of the apartment. Whizzer smugly tilted his ear towards him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Marvin huffs a frustrated breath, steeling himself as he turns his gaze to Whizzers socked feet which dangled in front of him. His cheeks flushed as he asks again, pointedly.

“Whizzer, will you marry me?”

In that moment Whizzer is struck by just how much the man before him has grown.

When they met, Marvin was one of those men who was deeply sensitive and would never admit it. He could never admit fault or weakness. Everything was a personal critique and any embarrassment he felt was the end of the world.

He tries to be better. For him, for Jason, for anyone who might ever trigger his temper. He’s worked hard on himself, and it definitely shows. He’s softer, he thinks before he speaks. Doesn’t get so defensive. But Marvin is still that man. He’s still kind of an over sensitive prick.

And yet.

And yet, here he is. Wounded, cheeks burning, and literally on his knees for Whizzer; holding a ring that, shockingly? Is deemed _not disgusting_ by Whizzer’s standards. He’s essentially baring his neck and guts before him, thinking spurting arteries and disembowelment weren’t just a possibility, but a guarantee. 

_God,_ Whizzer loves him.

It takes a moment for Marvin to notice. He’s still seemingly avoiding his gaze and staring straight ahead at Whizzer’s socks, as if he’s just discovered he’s a foot guy. He blinks hard when he notices Whizzer’s hand outstretched, palm down and fingers spread.

Whizzer gazes at him expectantly. Lips traced with a light smile, he pushes his hand out further. Marvin fumbles with the box tentatively reaching a hand out for Whizzer’s. “Is- is that a yes?” 

The blind hope and disbelief in his voice makes the yes get stuck around a lump in his throat. Whizzer tries his best to convey _I love you, you absolutely hopeless fool,_ with a look. He thinks he succeeds, based off of the wetness that springs to Marvin’s eyes that Whizzer tries to ignore because if Marvin cries then he’ll cry and he’s been very proud of himself for not crying in front of Marvin during particularly rough days this past month. He swallows as his breath catches and says, as smoothly as he can: “Bling me up, baby.”

Whizzer watches the bob of Marvin’s adam’s apple as he swallows a lump in his throat to match Whizzer’s own. Marvin’s hands shake as he hurriedly pries the ring from its bed and gently grabs Whizzer’s wrist. 

He didn’t realize his hands were shaking too.

The calm he briefly felt fractures as reality starts to set in, again. His vision grows blurry as the smooth gold is slipped onto his finger frantically as they fumble towards one another. The weight of the ring doesn’t even register compared to the weight of Marvin’s lips against his, and soon the weight of his body in Whizzers lap, and the weight of him hard against Whizzer’s thigh. 

It’s pure overstimulation. The stress and the hurt and the trauma of the past several weeks crescendos and disintegrates in a swarm around them. His chest is tight and his arms are weak and his skin is buzzing from thrill and lack of oxygen. The taste of salt is rich and sickly on his tongue and he’s not sure where it came from. It’s possible he’s broken his _No Crying In Front Of Marvin_ streak but if he has, thankfully the man is too preoccupied to notice. He’s making sounds like he’s dying as he holds onto him and Whizzer’s reminded that even though he’s the one who was in the gown, Marvin’s the one that’s been suffering the most. Their breaths tremble into each other's mouths and Marvin’s sweaty hands vibrate where they grasp the back of Whizzer’s neck. 

He’s ill. It’s unlikely he ever won’t be. He’s fatigued, he’s weak, and he’s sick of it. Still, Whizzer thinks he’s doing just fine

**Author's Note:**

> title is from being alive from company which is so perfect (make me confused/mock me with praise/let me be used/vary my days like is that not the most romantic thing ever written??) for them and fucks me up every time because raul esparza and sondheim are too powerful. also the “do you get what i’m proposing? i’m proposing.” is a line from beetlejuice (the musical the musical the musical) which i saw in october and had the TIME of my LIFE. 
> 
> hope this worked out, it’s a bit of a different style than i’ve gone for previously. i got the scene stuck in my head months ago and just yesterday had the motivation to attempt to put it into words.
> 
> thank you for reading, friends. feedback of all kinds is so very encouraging and appreciated. no pressure, but i would sell my first born son to satan for feedback lmao


End file.
